


Peacetime

by DealingDearie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-10 00:24:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 4,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2003721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DealingDearie/pseuds/DealingDearie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small collection of drabbles written for various prompts given over on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Remus and Tonks' Wedding

It was truly a very quiet affair.

With the war brewing right beneath their feet, with all the lives lost and the emotional turmoil they’d both been through these recent months, Remus and Tonks needed nothing more than a bit of peace. It had come as an increasingly familiar shock to know that he could never invite Sirius, to realize that none of his friends would be standing near with their wide grins and warm eyes, to be reminded that all of his friends were dead. It was a cruel thought that almost made him frown as he stood next to Tonks, donning her usual clothes (“I do  _not_ do dresses, Remus.”) with her hair shaded a light brown.

She often liked to change it, but she’d kept both the short style and the color for a long while now; he wondered if it had anything to do with her mood, but quickly dismissed the idea as she glanced up at him, smiling in such a way that it put his mind at ease. Her dark eyes were oceans he could get lost in, his escape in the darkest of times; it was only natural that they marry, after all they’d suffered together.

They were bonded, then, and it felt to Remus like the beginning of something wonderful, the wizards and witches from the local tavern smiling with the natural, infectious joys that overwhelms a person at a wedding, and yet he still feared that he might have brought a life of unrest upon Tonks. He was a werewolf-that fact would forever haunt them-and the knowledge that they wouldn’t be easily accepted by others around them was a weighty, burdening thing settling itself upon his shoulders.

And yet, he didn’t mind it so much as Tonks wound her warm fingers within his own, as she smiled up at him with the bright glint of happiness in her loving gaze. He didn’t mind the future; he didn’t mind the war.

He didn’t mind much of anything in that moment, actually.

All he cared about was the press of her palm against his as a few of the townsfolk clapped and cheered good-naturedly around them. Tonks was everything to him, and despite his cursed youth and lonely life, he felt as if he might just be the luckiest man alive.


	2. Late-Night Observations

The dark, silky curls of Hermione’s hair were splayed about her head, resting against the downy pillow she laid upon in thick, soft strands that Draco liked to card his hands through when she wasn’t paying attention. The slivers of moonlight peeking shyly past the window curtains found their way across her skin, bathing her features in a white, bright glow as she slept soundly beside him, his fingers idly twined within her locks.

Carefully, he pulled his hand away from her hair to gently run his fingertips down the petite bridge of her nose, smiling to himself as her chest rose and fell with deep, slow breaths that put him at ease. After so much loss and heartbreak and danger in the world, it was all too relieving to see some form of life, some reminder that all had not been taken.

She stirred just the slightest, and his hand froze where it hovered above her familiar face, her eyes darting back and forth beneath their lids, which concealed those chestnut irises he adored so greatly, spurred on by the wavering nature of the erratic, random nightmares she always claimed to be haunted by in the swirling shadows of night. When at last she stilled, he ghosted his fingertips down her heated cheek, relishing in the feel of her velvety skin and hoping that his touch had somehow managed to soothe her restless, unforgiving mind. 


	3. Burger King

After being dragged to Burger King and promptly left there by a certain lightning-scarred wizard (on the grounds that he had to go "do muggle things for a bit"), Ron was distracting himself by surveying the vast choices on the large overhead menu, eyes darting over the bright pictures of delicious-looking things he'd never heard of before. Harry had hastily told him to try The Whopper, whatever that was, before rushing out the door, and so Ron eventually pinpointed said food in question and its admittedly odd price. It just seemed to be a sandwich, but for such an expensive price, he thought it surely must have been the greatest thing in the world.

The woman behind the counter, with dark red hair swept up inside her black cap, gave him a friendly smile and asked what he wanted to order. Remembering Harry's advice, he requested 'The Whopper', and upon further inquiry as to whether or not he wanted merely the sandwich or the meal, Ron gave her a perplexed look and quickly decided that meal sounded better, no matter the situation, and went with that.

Afterward, as Harry came barreling through the clear door as if he might be in trouble for taking too long running whatever muggle errand he'd needed to run, Ron realized that he rather enjoyed 'The Whopper' and the other food that accompanied it. He told Harry as much while they were leaving, and the boy who lived decided not to comment on the tiny ketchup stain on Ron's shirt collar.


	4. Wolfstar

Remus was rather ashamed of the scars marring the usually pallid skin of his face and Sirius carried the knowledge with him as if it were a heavy, nearly unbearable burden. Every one of the Marauders knew of their dear friend’s condition and his subsequent and problematic self-esteem issues, but hardly cared, for Remus was a true friend that they doubted they could live without.

James, with his nearly overwhelming charisma and friendly nature, had always been eager to welcome the werewolf into the folds, and Peter, too, had seemed comfortingly accepting. But it was Sirius, with his crumbling family and divided heart, who recognized the turmoil within Remus only because it was brewing within his own soul. It was Sirius who beamed at him from across the room when James suggested that the group change themselves into animagi to support and assist Remus in his time of need. I

t was Sirius who understood his isolation and grief like no other, who felt his heartache and sorrow as their lives shattered around them, who was still standing even 12 years later (open arms, hesitant eyes, ragged face) to pick up the pieces of their broken hopes.

It was, and had always been, Sirius, and though he could wish for the remainder of his unpredictable life that it would continue to be Sirius who was there for him, that it would forever be Sirius, the air around them felt just as laden with tension, and the glances thrown their way just as filled with apprehension and caution, that he knew the war would claim them yet again. 


	5. Dramione

Draco had gazed into the face of death several times; he’d seen it through a passing glance thrown in Knockturn Alley, had caught a glimpse of its menace as Dumbledore fell from the tower, had witnessed its influence in Voldemort’s cruel smile, and had nearly fallen into its cold embrace if not for Snape and Narcissa and Harry.

Again, he had faced it more times after the war, but Hermione, smart, bright, brave Hermione, had saved him each time. She’d pulled him away from both its lure and damnation, had shown him the light instead, and he would forever be grateful to her. He would always cherish her, would always remember the exact shade of her deep eyes with fondness, and she’d be none the wiser.

He’d dream of her, on the good nights that he managed to avoid his usual nightmares, and he’d imagine that she, lying beside him with her soft curls spread about her head and over the pillows beneath her, was dreaming of him, as well. In times of need, he would only recall the lavender of her new shampoo as the scent rested across her smooth skin, the stretching of her kiss-swollen lips as she grinned at him, the iron in her grip as she wrapped her arms around his neck in one of her crushing, comforting hugs.

He’d imprint into his memory the very sound of her laugh and the warmth of her skin and the range of forgiveness she carried within her heart.

And when Hermione pressed her lips to his with the lightest of touches, her heart thudding as she pressed herself reassuringly against him, Draco knew that she relied just as much on him as he did upon her, and that was what made her lips taste all the more sweet.  


	6. Release

It had taken a great deal of courage to return to the forest in which he’d perished only weeks before, and the memory clung to him still, haunting and heavy on his mind, as he trekked across the rocky, mossy expanse, dodging low-hanging branches and avoiding the more shadowed corners of the place they’d all once hoped to never find themselves in. Harry knew the path, he’d walked it then, counting the steps to distract himself from thinking of his destination, keeping track of every crunching twig beneath his shoe or fallen leaf at his side so that he didn’t have to think about his certain death looming just ahead.

Now, the habit served as a helpful tool, for Harry found the spot just as easily as if his legs had deemed it unacceptable to  _not_  find it, and had refused to take him anywhere else but to the place near where Voldemort had looked upon him and cast the most final, impactful, and irreversible curse Harry had ever known. It seemed only fitting that he return there, healthy and whole and very much alive, as a way of spiting the wizard, and that thought alone was a tiny, mild comfort. After going over to stand in the same place he’d dropped the stone on his journey to death, Harry leant over and scooped it up in his palm, reassured by its sharp edges pressed against his skin as he closed his eyes.

The world had suffered for so long because of Voldemort, suffered such losses and cruelty, and now that it was over, the aftermath was so terribly heartbreaking that at times he didn’t think he could take it. He’d lost so many people, everyone had, and it stung, left a bitter taste in his mouth and burned his eyes with unshed tears.

He longed to see them all again, longed to have everything back to the way it had been before, and that yearning felt like an almost physical ache that never abated. He wished so vastly to hear their voices and see their smiles, and kept the thought close to him as he took a deep, cleansing breath. He could feel it in the air, he thought, could feel the sigh of relief the world took, could feel the pieces falling back into place as everything was set right once again, for just a moment, and he clung to that moment with all the strength he had as he opened his eyes. 

The forest looked the same, yet it was forever changed by the person now standing within its clearing, just in front of him, her face so familiar to him now. The red strands of her hair shone brighter in the dim light of the forest, and her ivy-colored eyes stared unblinkingly at him, wide and curious and filled with pride. He smiled, stepping forward to get a better look at her, and there was a certain shine to her warm gaze, tears spilling from her eyes and dripping down her pale cheeks.

“We’re all so proud,” she murmured hoarsely, emotion caught in her voice, and Harry felt his own throat grow tight with it, at a loss for words when he’d been ready to say everything and anything he could just moment ago. He missed her  _so much_ , and he’d never even truly known her, just as he missed his father.

It was a nearly unbearable thought now, that they were gone-a thing he’d always known, a thing he’d grown used to, but a thing he was still trying to accept.

And then, of course, there were the other casualties: Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Fred, Dumbledore, Snape, Lavender, Colin, Moody, Dobby, Hedwig, and so many others. He desperately hoped they were all at peace, wherever they were. As if reading his mind, Lily tilted her head, and her smile widened as she nodded to herself.

“They’re all happy, sweetheart. It’s very lovely where we are,” she reassured him quietly, and he took a moment to think of them all, to imagine them happy, to  _be happy_  for them, to let go of his grief and his pain so that he could move on, to release the heavy burden thrust onto him. Lily’s smile fell for a brief moment as she stared at him, watched him struggle to accept what she’d said, and as he kept his eyes fixed upon her, attempting to imprint every inch of her into his memory, the grin she’d worn returned wider than ever, as if she’d just heard a hilarious joke.

He squinted in confusion as she turned to look somewhere to her left, and, suddenly, James Potter was appearing in the air at her side, smiling with equal joy as his friends joined him. Sirius stood near him with Remus and Tonks, who held hands as if they would never let one another go, and Fred, Lavender, and Colin appeared a bit far off to Lily’s right, beaming at Harry as if he were a long-lost friend. Snape appeared between them and Lily, standing close to her as if he wished never to leave her side, and she turned to look at him and offer a friendly smile before glancing back at Harry.

Finally, Dumbledore appeared beside Snape with a familiar, wizened smile, and Harry caught the peaceful look Snape gave him.

“This will be the last time, Harry,” James said softly, his smile turning sad, and Harry nodded. Nothing like this could last forever; they all had to move on. If only Ron could be here to see his brother, he thought forlornly. It wasn’t exactly fair that he be able to say his farewells when his friends were denied the same luxury.

“We are so proud,” Lily reminded him softly, smiling with teary eyes and bright hair, and he saw the lines of her face, there just as if she’d earned them throughout her lifetime, and yet Harry knew the truth. She looked as she would have looked now in life, and it hurt his heart to see the same wrinkles and laugh lines on his father’s face. His green eyes scanned the small crowd before him, and he found Sirius’ face there, beaming at him like a father would at his child.

“We’re all happy, Harry; we’re alright,” he assured, and Harry let a small smile come to his face as he took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He knew that this had to end; good things always did. He would have to let them go, let their faces and voices fade into memory and pray that he’d never forget a mere moment he’d shared with them. 

With his lids shut, he couldn’t see the look of contentment slithering onto Lavender and Colin’s faces or the smirk Fred donned-as genuine and mirthful as ever. He couldn’t catch a glimpse of the loving look Remus and Tonks gave each other, and couldn’t see the teasing expression Sirius made as he looked over at them with their hands intertwined. He couldn’t see the way Dumbledore smiled proudly over at Snape, or the way Lily clutched to Snape’s arm with the most forgiving shine in her dark emerald eyes, or even the way Snape smiled at her in return.

And Harry, with his heart thudding vigorously in his chest, was so caught up in the idea of letting go that he could not see the way James wrapped his arm around Lily’s shoulders, the way he stared at Harry, eyes darting over his face greedily, as if he never wished to forget his son’s face. Harry didn’t see the way Lily absently wiped the tears from her cheeks, the way her shoulders trembled with equal mixes of sorrow and elation, the way she opened her mouth to say something but closed it not a second later, nodding to herself.

Harry focused on it all.

He let go of the remorse he felt for Lavender and Colin, the pain he felt for Fred, the sadness he felt for Dobby and Hedwig, the things he wished he could say to Dumbledore, the things he wished he’d known about Snape, the moments he’d lost with Sirius, the guilt he felt for Remus and Tonks and their orphaned little boy, the memories he wished he’d made with Lily and James and the life they all could have had. 

He focused and let it sink in and let it all go just as he released the breath he was holding. 

There came a great, whistling sigh carried on the gust of wind that flew across the forest floor, and he stumbled as it brushed up against him, slithering beneath his jacket and ruffling his hair. 

Opening his eyes, he found no trace of their presence, found himself alone, and turned to make his way back to the school.

Halfway through his journey, Harry realized that not only had he given himself peace of mind, but he’d released them, as well, and as he gazed up at the clear sky, looking just as bright and vivid as he imagined it had looked to his parents when they were his age, he smiled freely.

He would never be alone.


	7. Wingardium Leviosa

Hermione had studied plenty of textbooks upon hearing of her magical gifts, had pored over thousands of words to learn about correct terminology and conduct and spellwork, but had never performed an actual spell until the month before arriving at Hogwarts. It had been a slight fear for her, an apprehensive procrastination for the sake of saving herself from disappointment, but the day had come, and young Hermione cast  _Wingardium Leviosa_  at least fifty times, angered by the apparent futility of her efforts and saddened at the rush of worthlessness she felt inside.

If she couldn’t cast a single spell, if she was a witch and she couldn’t even cast such a rudimentary spell, then she was no true witch at all. The thought burdened her so heavily that it brought tears to her eyes, tightening her throat and making her next attempt come out faulty, her voice changing in the middle of the incantation so that the words sounded different.

Suddenly, though, the pencil she’d been focused on lifted from its place upon the table to float in the air, and her dark eyes rounded with surprise before an elated grin came over her face.  _It’s_   _Wingardium Leviohsa,_ she thought _, not Wingardium Leviosah._

And when a frustrated Ron Weasley sat near her in Charms class just a few weeks later, trying time and time again to levitate his feather, she gave him a word of advice, not wanting him to make the same mistake she had. 


	8. Arthur/Molly

Still unaccustomed to their new life, two people in love and trying to find their way, the war had a great impact on Arthur and Molly Weasley.

The couple trying desperately to handle their children and keep them safe from danger had been terrified for the past few years, fearing Voldemort and all he stood for. If a wizard like that could gain power so easily, if he could start a war and destroy everything in his path, then no amount of pureblood ancestry could save them.

He could very well decide to wipe them all from the face of the earth and start anew, if he wanted, if no one stood strong enough to stop him. It was a constant fear hanging around their necks, weighing their minds at all hours of the day and burdening their spirit.

Eventually, even the young children began to notice the slight differences in their parents’ behavior.

There was, however, a light, a bright beacon of hope shining in the darkness of their heady terror. There was no amount of hatred, no amount of chaos and evil, that could eradicate love, and if Arthur and Molly had nothing else (wealth, new clothes, a nice house), they certainly had plenty of love, and when Arthur pulled Molly close in her fit of trembling after hearing of yet another Muggleborn slaughtered by Voldemort and his followers, the calming rhythm of his heart and the reassuring pressure of his arms around her brought her to a peace she’d not known anywhere else, and in that moment they were invincible. 


	9. Hinny

After it was over, after Voldemort had finally fallen, there was a silence that stretched on. Harry could feel it invading his anxious, battle-wrought mind, could see it washing over the school and all within, could sense the reluctant, timid hope that fluttered in the hearts of every witch and wizard at Hogwarts. He could see it in their eyes as they slowly emerged from the castle, curious, half-afraid gazes thrown cautiously about the courtyard and subsequent smiles of great relief. But there was grief there, too, momentarily shrouded by their overwhelming happiness, and Harry knew that such sorrow would soon overtake them all, like the crushing silence just after a tornado, the relief at its finality and the underlying terror at its unknown effect.

Harry would deal with it all later, he thought.  _Later_.

Because Ginny looked so beautiful beneath the archway of the entrance, standing with her arms tensed at her sides, a wand clutched in her fingers even still and her hair all mussed. The dirt smudges on her cheeks darkened her skin, and he thought that she looked awfully fierce altogether, gaze darting from person to person until it founds its way to him. Her smile, when it at last illuminated her features and kick started his heart, was one of such tenderness that it amazed him. She rushed to him, her name dying on his lips as she pressed her own to them in a fervent, desperate kind of passion he hadn’t known before, her arms wrapped securely around his neck as the scent of her hair enveloped him. He held her close, relishing in the moment before it could be taken from him, eyes closed against the wave of emotion rolling over him. She pulled away reluctantly, and he saw for a split second the soft way her eyelashes kissed the tops of her cheeks before she turned her eyes upon him, beaming. He noticed the dry tear tracks making lines down her face and moved to wipe them away, but she gingerly held his hand at bay and shook her head.

“Harry,” she finally murmured hoarsely, clutching to his arms so tight that he thought they might pinch in half, her dark eyes bright with a curious mix of worry and glee. He merely stared at her, too dumbstruck, too shocked to do anything more than hold fast to her waist and pray that whatever came next would do so slowly. The battle was over, but he still felt so deeply rooted in its web that the idea of it having ended absolutely grounded him.

Ginny bit her bottom lip, tears welling in her eyes, and Harry guessed that she knew what he was thinking, blood rushing to her cheeks as she shook her head faster, as if in denial.

“Oh, Harry,” she all but wailed, throwing her arms around him once more in a comforting, protective kind of way, her breath hot on his neck and her cheek soft against the shell of his ear. He embraced her eagerly, closing his eyes and sighing into her hair, ignoring the pang of grief already suffocating him. He’d deal with it, in time, and Ginny would be there when he did.

She’d always be there; this much he was sure of. 


	10. Drarry

Often Draco wished that Harry had been sorted into Slytherin instead, that the hat had proclaimed him of great ambition and announced what seemed to Draco to be his birthright. After all, Harry was the boy who lived, and such power to thwart the Dark Lord belonged undoubtedly in Slytherin; it would, too, make it easier for the boys to see each other, away from judging, suspicious eyes of classmates.

It was difficult to be so open with one another in front of dozens of Gryffindors, difficult to be anything but what was expected, and Draco longed for a day when that would be over, when he could go over and just talk to Harry without the watchful, threatening gazes at their backs, when he could wrap his arms around those familiar shoulders and laugh about some silly joke Harry’d just told him, when he could slip into the common room and play a prank on the sleepless, oblivious Potter.

It would be a dream come true, and Draco wished each and every day that Harry would walk into class wearing a green tie, that the past few years of House separation would end up having all been a pesky dream he’d gladly woken from. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please R&R! Feedback is always appreciated. All rights go to their respective owners. ;)


	11. Drarry 2.0

Harry had long-abandoned the expectation that Draco liked to sleep late, as Harry himself did, and it was a very frustrating thing to be woken so early in the day at the touch of Draco’s feet accidentally brushing against Harry’s calves as he struggled to slither out from under the sheets while trying to minimize noise and movement, afraid to wake Harry-it was a futile apprehension.

It was so frustrating, in fact, that Harry frequently had the urge to tackle Draco to the ground and guilt-trip him, yet all he could ever manage was a lazily-thrown pillow poorly aimed at the back of the Slytherin’s head. Harry would attempt to return to slumber, but it hardly ever worked, so he’d just sulk in bed for an hour or so and stretch his limbs out to reach the cooler side where Draco had been, relishing in the feel of the sheets sliding against his skin.

Yes, living with Draco was a hassle on most days, but it had its own rewards, especially on those slow mornings of pouting in bed when Draco would bring in breakfast on a fancy tray Narcissa had given him, smiling apologetically and playfully ruffling Harry’s dark hair until the boy who lived was forced to sit upright and glare half-heartedly up at him.


	12. Full Circle

Standing on that familiar platform, watching their children wave and smile and vanish far out of sight, Harry felt a wave of peace overcome him. Here he was, in a place that had first introduced him to wonder and magic and true hope, with the people he’d most dearly loved in all the years after his first train ride to Hogwarts.

Hermione and Ron stood close to him, arms linked together and tears in their eyes as they turned away from where the train had been. Harry watched them, and in that moment he was a child again, seated in the train car all by himself, a pocket full of money and a racing pulse as he looked about him, amazed. A small, redheaded boy popped his head in the door with a humble gaze and then Harry was pushed forward in time, wrappers all around them as they feasted on candy and likely ruined their appetite for dinner. A bushy-headed girl with dark, curious eyes came in, her lips pursed, her gaze falling on Ron and Harry as words of a missing pet fell from her lips and her expression turned into one of disbelief.

They’d had no idea, then, and Harry, back in the present, could hardly believe it himself. The couple turned to smile at him and they both came over and hugged him: a parent’s understanding. Hermione embraced Ginny and Ron patted her on the shoulder, nodding at her proudly.

They’d all done so much, together.

And it was only fitting that Harry feel this sudden sense of peace and familiarity and complete happiness in the exact same place he’d once felt it so long ago. As they all turned to leave, his smile was lasting; it was only fitting that the platform had both welcomed him and bid him farewell in the exact same fashion.

**Author's Note:**

> Please R&R! All rights belong to their respective owners.


End file.
